Sunday, July 17, 2011

Roaring of Truth

Rosie Hardy

Soaring vultures
Circling whispers
Half-dead road kill … stain eastbound lanes … on Highway 6

He cheated on his

With that redheaded

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Waves of black bats
Wakes of echoes
Fly in and out … shadowed towers … silvery moon

He tormented her

She attempted to

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Razor sharp tongues
Dark clouds of wasps
Wind driven sleet … bloodied whipped welts … tortured torn skin

The husband’s to

So’s that redheaded

That’s what we heard … no reason to doubt … has to be true

Cat o’ nine tails
Whistling wet air
Horrific screams … feed the roar of … Niagara lies

Hey, she made it all

She was crazy with

That’s what we heard … wasn’t our fault … thought it was true

Meandering river
Greenish smooth blue
Glimmering light … frames a body … facedown and gone

That’s what they caused … wasn’t their first … done it before

Bloodied crude nails
Stabbing red flesh
Hanging from wood … up on a hill … truth crucified

They Called Him a fake … they jeered to His face … then asked was He true

The silence of Calvary
The roaring of truth

Friday, July 15, 2011

My Walls Rhyme Not

My walls rhyme not

My adjective’s untidy order swim upstream lazily

Insanity screams in happy colors in warm waves of cold slaps

My walls unrhyme from our vocabulary family reunion at Loneliness Junction where voices are free verse taunts of nervous laughter

Upstream my adjectives bleed in bear’s mouths

Orange drives me crazy

No rhyme or reason

The color of my mental state’s flag at half-mast upsidedown-all-bunchedtogether

Alone with my loneliness we listen in corners orange

My walls rhyme not

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Love - You Lie

Jamie Beck

Love’s illusion,
    Lie’s seclusion.
Smoke’s reflection,
    Mirror’s detection.
Truth’s confusion,
    Heart’s contusion.

Red lips moist
    whisper names.
Brown eyes hide
    mascara’s aim.
Beauty spins
    roulette’s round game.

Shattered glass reeks of rum.
Starving crows eat stale crumb.
Empty pools curse noon sun.

Love lies.
Smoke hides.
Mirror cries.
Truth dies.
Heart sighs.

Deceitfulness is a beauty I cannot tame.
Why even try?
    you lie.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

We Are What Is

Thomas Hart Benson

Coastal blows
Draw us close
Knit and stitched
We breathe as one
With separate lungs
We are what is
Not skewed in cubes
Or obtuse views
All natural
In our region
Left of June
Under sun and tides of moon

Monday, July 11, 2011

Hope's Infatuation

Spring loves morning's dawn
Releases dreams to breezes
Hope's reflection sings


There’s an Oak in the woods that tells tales

About cypress, maples, and pines

All the saplings would listen

And pay close attention

About the humans

Their encroachment

Man’s hunger

To kill


Not Guilty

I don’t want to hear the jury’s logic

No thought or twisted reason

No instinct or whim of fancy

My heart fluttered like rapids on a river

Interrupted my buzz

A poem for the world

Galloping to resist the echo of

Not guilty

For Wordle 12

Bobbie Gail

Bobbie Gail is not my friend
Ice cubes
Hootchie momma

Bobbie Gail

Bobbie Gail is not my friend



Or do I need to spell it out

NOTE:  Bobbie Gail is a totally fictional character; trust me.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Let Me Fall Above

ǝʌoqɐ llɐɟ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ǝʌol ɹnoʎ ɹoɟ sʞuɐɥʇ
ǝɯoɹ ɟo oƃ ’uıʇʇǝl
ǝɯoɥ ’uıɯoɔ ɯ’ı

ʇdʎɹɔ sıɥʇ ɟo oƃ ʇǝl ll’ı
ʇınb ɐuuoƃ ʇ’uıɐ noʎ ǝɔuıs ʇnq
uʍop ǝpısdn plɹoʍ ʎɯ uɹnʇ
punoɟ ǝq ı ɟı ǝɹɐɔ noʎ ʎɥʍ

ǝuoƃ sɐɥ ǝɯıʇ ʎɯ
ƃuolɐ uo ǝʌoɯ
ǝɯoɥ ʎɯ sı sıɥʇ
ǝuolɐ ǝɯ ǝʌɐǝl

uʍoɹɔ uǝploƃ ou pǝǝu ʇ’uop ı
uʍoɹɟ ʎɟɯoɔ sıɥʇ ɹɐǝʍ ǝɯ ʇǝl
oƃ ǝɯ ʇǝl ʇsnɾ p’noʎ ɥsıʍ
ʍouʞ ʇ’uop ı ǝɯ ǝʌol noʎ ʎɥʍ

sʇsɐɔ ɟo pǝǝu uı sǝuoq uǝʞoɹq
ʇsɐd sǝɹıds uı ǝpıɥ ǝɯ ʇǝl
uʍop ǝpısdn plɹoʍ ʎɯ uɹnʇ
punoɟ ǝq ı ɟı ǝɹɐɔ noʎ ʎɥʍ

ǝuoƃ sɐɥ ǝɯıʇ ʎɯ
ƃuolɐ uo ǝʌoɯ
ǝɯoɥ ʎɯ sı sıɥʇ
ǝuolɐ ǝɯ ǝʌɐǝl

ʇɥƃıɹlɐ uo ʇǝƃ ı puɐ ʇsɐd ǝɥʇ
ʇɥƃıu ǝɥʇ uı ƃuıpıɥ ǝʞıl ı
 ʎqɐllnl ʎɯ ʎɹɔ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ʎq sʞɔıʇ ǝɯıʇ ɟı ǝɹɐɔ ʇ’uop ı

pǝq ʎɯ oʇ ʞɔɐq lʍɐɹɔ ǝɯ ʇǝl
ʞɔǝu ʎɯ punoɹ‘ ǝlƃuɐɹʇs ǝlƃunɾ
pɐǝp ǝɥʇ oʇ uo ƃuıƃuɐɥ
pɐǝɥ ʎɯ oʇ ƃuıɥsnɹ poolq

Neil Alexander

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Need Shade

We are going to the river
On the sunny north bank
It needs shade

Dad says it’s a good idea

I’m going to leave you there
And return for many visits
Even sitting in your cool shadow
With my great granddaughter
And talk about her mother’s
Mother …

… my mommy
And have a tea party
Like she did with me

Her ashes will help you grow
And protect us on the treeless side
Of the big-o-river wide
Where mommy fell asleep in her car
With a letter asking

Were going to the river
On the sunny north bank
It needs some shade


I see sun
But no dawn

Friday, July 8, 2011


Van Gogh

Trapped in agony’s abstract expression
Paralyzed sunrise
Green eyes surprised eternally
With the sameness of insane
Every day
Same on same

Allow this dawn to breathe

Smell real grass not splashed with oil
Scents of real soil
Warmth from sun’s embrace
Shade cooled by rolling hills
A place
Clocks tick
Faucets drip
Wheat waves at living skies
Never to fade from time
Not a trick of trade
But perspective
From soul

Allow this dawn to breathe

July My Winter

Silence whispers sonnets sung of summers passed

Weathered feathered dusty quill tips lay alone

Swollen eyelids secret hide behind dark glass

Barren pages blaring white bleach purged of groans

Purple curtains darkly tied forbid light’s pass

Missing laughter’s purring smile beneath crushed stone

My winter
I drink mint tea
And listen
To her sing

Silence whispers sonnets sung of summers passed

I'm Just a Man (Recording Experiment ... I can't sing)

I am in the mood to change my tree to a cubic version.